Looking Glass
by terracannon876
Summary: The Chosen Children learn to survive on their own, and the results may end up being a little twisted.  It's getting harder and harder to separate their sins from their strengths.  A collection of drabbles on the Chosen Children and the Seven Sins.
1. Luxuria

I'm going to try and describe as little of this fic as possible, and see if you guys get what's going on.

This came to my mind while I was studying for finals, because I'd decided to procrastinate and found a fic online with a pretty cool idea that isn't often tried, I think. Unfortunately, it wasn't very well-executed (and as such I will refrain from mentioning the fic's title), but anyways, I decided to write one of the sort myself.

The basic gist of the fic is the good ol' "the Chosen Children are evil" cliche. I tried to keep them all as IC as possible. and there's some thread of a plot in here. Something happened that made this story AU. I took many creative liberties, and I'm also ignoring several blatant plot holes that I know exist. But I loved the idea so much, I just ran with it!

There's also a theme going on here, so if you can spot it, kudos!

Please, no flames on characterizations or how they wouldn't really act like this, because, as much as I love every one of the Chosen Children, this piece is meant to be a sort of distortion. Sorry guys =)

Do review though?

Also, I use Japanese names and terms. It's just my habit. I apologize in advance if this annoys some people.

One last warning. I know this story starts off odd, but I'm going to be working through all the Chosen Children, one by one. All I can ask is that you readers be patient...

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><p>There was once a day when Sora would claim whole-heartedly that she had no love. It was impossible for her to love someone when she was a horrible daughter who screamed in her mother's face that she didn't love her, who was selfish and only wanted to do the things she wanted to do, like play soccer, get dirt filthy from head to toe with smears of skin showing through. She didn't understand the restrictions her mother had placed on her, not when she despised the flower shop with a vehemence that could only be born from a combination of spending too much time arguing against doing it and being bored out of her mind in the few times she actually bothered to try to learn.<p>

She liked to think that she had grown from those times, to someone capable of caring for others and to someone others looked to for support. She felt this way when she bandaged Takeru's wounds, the scrapings on his knuckles, and placed small patch over his cheek over a tiny cut that had stopped leaking blood long ago. She felt this way when she knocked on Koushirou's door, dragged him out for dinner when surely he'd have wasted away before his bright screen and worn keyboard long ago without her intrusions. She felt this way when she brought Mimi her favorite dresses and foods, and the girl's joy was her joy when she twirled in happiness and smiled so ecstatically as she indulged in the succulent meal. And she felt this way when she cheered Jou on, bolstering his self-confidence enough for him to continue on his work, dragged him back when he closed himself off because of another anxiety attack.

When Yamato announced that they were being attacked, it was all she could do not to restrain him and Taichi as they marched off to battle, weapons in hand. All she could do was wait, wait for them to return so that they were back with her, and only then was she happy. Only when they were all together, was she complete.

And when they didn't return in a timely fashion, it was up to her to be the one marching off, because if one left the coop, it was up to her to return them, if one wanted to take the bird metaphor that far. She would beat off anything holding them back, and she did so with a fierce joy. The creature pinning Yamato down hadn't stood a chance. She didn't even get a good look at it, to identify it; she hardly cared.

Yet even if it hurt her to let them go, she knew, in the end, it was for the greater good, because it was then safer for all of them, and so she tolerated the scrapes and bumps, bruises and the occasional break. Those would get better, unlike other afflictions.

She felt like she understood why her mother stopped her from playing when her ankle stung every other step, so long ago. She hated the feeling of any of them stepping out into danger or risk their lives. If she had the opportunity, she'd tell her, Sora decided. She'd tell her that she finally understood what love meant, as she tried to be the bond that held their makeshift family together in a world that wanted to kill them.


	2. Gula

Mimi hated the dark, how it made everything appear dull and lackluster, as though the life were sucked out of every crevice of the world.

And so she brightened her life with anything possible. Knick-knacks they'd found during their travels, and random art projects she tried to make but failed at because she lacked any artistic bone in her body. Even flowers, which were getting increasingly difficult to find, found their way into the place they called home, half-withered but bright for a short period of time.

In one of their brief moments of reprieve, she took out the latest dress Sora had bought for her, a pink thing with ribbons hanging from it round and round. She adored it, who wouldn't? It was every little girl's dream to be a princess someday, and even if she was approaching the age when even she felt such dreams were childish and tiresome, she couldn't help but indulge sometimes.

After all, why let the great big castle go to waste?

When Taichi returned one day, no sooner than he had set down his sword, did she take his hand and twirl him into an odd hopping dance made even more awkward by his clanking armor. But after the initial surprise had worn off, a smile had returned to their brave leader's face, and they both laughed as they lumberjacked their way across the hall. And when Jou came up to see what the noise was, she spun over to him, using Taichi's pass as momentum (he was a better dancer than he gave himself credit for, she thought), and took his hands up even though they were still gloved. His glasses partially askew, he stumbled a few steps back before finally gaining his bearings and stammering a compliment.

She chuckled good-naturedly, because that was all Jou could be, and soon the others were down, clapping along in some form of a rhythm to make up for the lack of music. Even Koushirou sat at the top of the stairs, watching quietly with not a smile on his face, but a quiet contentment quite like a cat's, as she took up sweet Takeru's hand despite his brother's protest, who was immediately hushed as Sora curtseyed before him, asking for a dance. Wonderful Sora, who would always be part of the glue that held them together, always there to prevent fights from breaking out.

Dinner time came, and fun time was over. The clanging of the pots and roaring of the fire occupied the next half hour of her life as they all worked in the kitchen to pool together a meal with what Yamato had brought back just yesterday. The stock was running low and they'd need a refill soon, but one day at a time, and only the best for today, so Mimi didn't let the lack of stock limit her as she worked her magic.

Nothing made her happier than to live in comfort, and even if sometimes she had to whine and bully her way into getting what she wanted, she never regretted a moment of it. Even when they did silly things or humored her with her faux balls and silly frivolous wishes, and even if she missed concrete and burgers and _home_ with something fierce, she knew being together, safe and happy, was the best that could have ever happened to them.


	3. Acedia

Jou had always hated the sight of blood, and it was even an odder thought that even though they were in the Digital World, they still bled.

He was the oldest child, the oldest one who had gone to the summer camp, and therefore the one who was supposed to be responsible for all their safeties, this group of theirs that had fallen from the sky and landed on their backs in a world of monsters and beasts.

And oh, for but a moment he had let himself be lulled into security by a small creature who called himself friend and said they were destined to be together.

But such thoughts were for another time, because one of their own was lying in front of him, half-bruised and half-gutted. Jou cursed, tried to still his shaking hands enough to get what meager supplies lined the room to bandage Sora up. Sora, who had only gone outside to protect Takeru when he'd recklessly charged out again for god-knows-what purpose.

He was useless, this much he knew. Even though he was the oldest, the responsibilities onto the younger Taichi, who was the better leader, and Sora, who was the better … mother hen, for lack of another word. Their partners, at the time, had taken up their respective roles quite well too, and there was nowhere near the top of the proverbial hierarchy for him anymore because Yamato was there, snapping at anyone who threatened his position or laid a hand on his kid brother.

Without a word, he had given up, accepted his role as the omega, slunk away, and he disgusted himself for it. Hated himself, because he was older, and even if it was by one year, he saw what this mystical world had done to them all. Changed them all.

Koushirou, in one of his rare moments of open-mouthed generosity, had guessed that the world, though ostensibly called the Digital World by its inhabitants, was in fact half fueled by emotions, which was perhaps the only reason why they weren't meat in a Tyrannomon's jaws yet, so to speak. That fateful day, when they had lost everything, their wills to survive must have triggered something, he said. Jou took the explanation with a grain of salt, but he did know that everything they did from then on revolved always around each other, consequences be damned.

And consequences they were, but Jou couldn't find it in himself to reprimand anyone. Instead, he tried to rack his brain for whatever knowledge he could from his perusal of study texts before the days of summer, and what he couldn't remember, Koushirou and his laptop supplied. Materials were in no lack in the Digital World, either, which was an odd conglomeration of everywhere imaginable on the Real World, including hospitals. Occasionally, he would bring his concerns up to Taichi, who only looked at him as though he'd grown an extra head before nodding and consenting to whatever point he'd just made … even though Jou was quite sure he hadn't understood a word he'd said. It wasn't that Taichi was stupid. He just didn't understand. None of them did, that what they were doing, what was going on, was just…

But as Sora opened her eyes, and Takeru and Mimi beside her cried out in relief, and as she said, "I knew we could always rely on you, Jou," the words withered away in his throat and he just smiled and nodded, grateful they would all live to see another day.


	4. Ira

Takeru hated the darkness. Hated it with all his soul ever since he had been a little boy, watching his friends be destroyed by this giant black shadow that only came out of scary summer stories or from under the bed.

That day, he didn't know what happened. He barely remembered it because he was only eight, damn it, but he could still see the brightly shining eyes that shone blue like the sky and white that was like the clouds that never streaked overhead anymore, and then just as quickly, shit hit the fan and it felt like half of him had died.

He still didn't remember why they, a motley band of human kids, weren't really dead then or now, but he wasn't complaining.

"You should be more careful when you go outside." That was Sora, always ever-fussing over his injuries. He'd grown since those days, but he supposed that they'd always keep the same mentalities they'd had at the time, to an extent. He was forever the "kid" of the group. Some days it irritated him, some days the title settled around him like an old skin. It was who he was, where he belonged.

He gave a slight nod, acknowledging the advice but not promising that he'd take it. After all, half the time _he_ didn't know what'd come over him when he'd find the monsters before him gone, data floating away in the wind.

He supposed it should have disturbed him more. Death, that is. But these creatures weren't him, weren't _him_, and they'd taken _him_ away from him and they should suffer all the more for it.

When his brother had once asked him about his outside excursions, he'd replied with a "Because I hope that one day, we can live in peace without having to worry about being stabbed in our sleep." He didn't very much understand the frown that was on Yamato's face, nor the glance he'd shared with Taichi over his head, but he'd spoken the truth.

They, the outsiders, the monsters, were the danger.

They, his family, were the only thing keeping each other alive and safe. Even if his family included a computer nerd who insisted on learning everything possible about this godforsaken world that seemed intent on killing them, a wannabe medical student whose hands shook so much he was more likely to create more injuries than fix old ones, and a diva who didn't care about anything except herself.

But then, it was the nerd who kept them alive through his network of illegally-obtained information, who had scouted out the weaknesses of the enemy. The pseudo-doctor who had pulled through in dire times to wrap up a limb before they charged back into battle. The drama queen who managed the day-to-day affairs and made life bearable.

And then there were his brothers, who stood at the top of everything, who protected them with all their strength.

And he loved them all for it.

So if he could help by pre-empting any attack that came their way by killing anything that stepped within walking distance, if that was the only way he could help, then so be it. No one approved of his actions, but he didn't want approval.

He wasn't losing anyone ever again.


	5. Avaritia

Starting to add letters to the chapter titles.. =P

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><p>The Digital World was a conglomeration of puzzles waiting to be cracked, or so Koushirou had originally thought, but now it was different. It was a mystery that <em>needed<em> to be solved, for their survival and for his own curiosity, because ever since he had discovered that the Digital World was, in fact digital (which, in retrospect, was kind of obvious, if one knew English), he realized that he had the world's knowledge at his fingertips. Anything he wanted to learn was right there, before him, and nothing made him happier than sitting before his laptop that he had serendipitously brought to summer camp. There was more than what he knew what to do with, but on and on he read, the burning desire for knowledge pushing him forwards and onwards.

Sometimes, the sun would trek across the sky full-circle before he realized that he had yet to leave the room once. The Digital World certainly messed with his circadian cycle, and even his natural bodily functions were completely disturbed. In fact, he suspected that it was only their "nostalgic attachment" to food that necessitated eating. Everything about this world was an odd conglomeration of digital and emotions, and if one just tried believing hard enough, like they had against the demons that still haunted some of their nightmares so long ago, anything could happen. He had yet to work out the exact boundary between the two, but suspected they were so convolved he never would.

Not that he would deprive them of their joy of something so normal as a meal. In their hearts, he knew that each of them wanted to return home, to the world where monsters did not haunt their doorsteps, crying words of outrage and despair as their homes were ransacked and their families slaughtered.

Yes, Koushirou knew what was going on outside those doors that separated their little paradise, filled with Mimi's joy and Sora's warmth, with Jou's earnestness and Takeru's innocence, with Yamato's protectiveness and Taichi's love. He knew better than Jou and Sora, who saw the after-effects, than Mimi, who watched from afar, and than even Taichi and the two brothers, who were always the ones on the front line, experiencing the horror for themselves.

And yet, he still helped them. He strategized with their leader late into the night, because not doing so was out of the question. If they were to survive, logically they would need to defeat the opponent.

The only problem was that Koushirou was no longer sure who it was they were trying to beat, because it surely wasn't those running away crying in terror.

The only thing he could do, then, was to drown himself in more information. Everything from the layout of the Digital World to how it worked, to random Real World information like cooking recipes or first-aid procedures that would come in handy at some point. Instead of looking them up later, he could recite them in emergencies. He'd always had a good memory.

He wrapped himself in a blanket of binary 0s and 1s, always eager for more information, but when one day he intercepted a message that spoke of new heroes, new Children, he couldn't find it in himself to be surprised. He didn't even find it horrifying when he read who their supposed enemy was, who it was the proverbial knights in shining armor were charged with killing.

He supposed that he really was turning into a robot, like Mimi had accused him of being so long ago.


	6. Invidia

I'm going to reveal the chapter titles next chapter, seeing as how it's the 7th child and the 7th drabble.

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><p>No longer were they children. Koushirou had estimated that they were about fourteen, but it was impossible to know if the day-to-year cycle was still the same. All Yamato knew was that he looked older, felt older, and he was slowing starting to tire of it all.<p>

Not to say that he didn't appreciate the others. That he knew from his heart he would always be able to do. But he didn't understand how the others could spend their days doing the same, over and over again. They tried to spice things up, but there was only so much you could do with their limited supplies and experience. He wanted to, but he couldn't.

It was hard to pinpoint where things went so horribly off, where killing had become his daily exercise, when it had gone from necessity, both for protection and for supplies, to mere sport. Takeru called it vigilance (a word he'd surely picked up from the resident braniac), Taichi called it precaution. He just called it brutal and pointless.

The only saving point was that Digimon didn't bleed. They were horrifically practical, in that manner.

He could say that it all started with their encounter with their partners. If they had never formed that bond that had reached into their souls and tied them to the children Digimon, then perhaps they wouldn't have been so lost in the aftermath of the Pyrrhic victory that had decimated every last one of their newly-made friends. Perhaps they would have befriended more of the monsters that they now hunted, and they could have lived in peace.

Perhaps they could have made it home.

He hated them, oh how he hated these new children who came traipsing towards their castle, which was hard-won with flesh, blood, and tears, as though it were nothing but a trip through the park. At their side walked partners, different ones, ones he had never seen before, not even among the monsters he had encountered at the opposite end of his blade.

Even as he watched, he knew they were not as close as knit a group as they were. For all that he envied their constant obliviousness to the world sometimes, he knew he would protect his new makeshift family just as he would have Takeru. He would have walked twenty times the distance he had on that icy hell before his friend had finally (sensibly) dragged him into a cave to warm him from the grips of hypothermia.

They watched over each other, habit and affection born from desperation and helplessness. These children bickered at each other, were discordant.

They didn't know the beginning of hardship, of what they had been through.

And because of this, Yamato knew. They did not stand a chance against them, because even if half of them didn't fight, he knew that they would all stand. From Sora to Koushirou, to even the cowering Jou, they would do their best.

Briefly, the thought that these people had everything that they had lost flickered across his mind, but he shoved it into that corner where his unwanted thoughts went and stood, ready to meet the intruders.


	7. Superbia

Aaand here are the full titles =D

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><p>Blade clashed with claw, and a X-laser fizzled uselessly against his shield that he'd thrown up at the last minute. Never before had Taichi been so glad for something as fantastical as magic.<p>

To think, magic! In the Digital World, a place governed by code and numbers!

Koushirou had stated it more as a phenomenon, a manifestation of emotion, whatever that meant. Taichi was more comfortable thinking of the mysterious workings as magic, and so he called it that in his mind.

But even with that in his arsenal, he knew they were in trouble. Because they were facing kids. Humans, just like them, and if what the red-head was anything to go by (and he was always, always right, as proven in the Curry Incident), then these weren't ordinary opponents he was facing.

These were adult Digimon with the emotion of children backing them up.

And even if Yamato, Takeru, and even Sora were there behind him, he knew they were in trouble, because despite their various victories against even the rare Perfect Digimon, they had never had to face someone with such a handicap before.

Four vs. four. Four Digimon vs. four humans.

But even then, he did not stand down, because this was his family. _His_ place, that he had staked out for them, so that they could all survive without fear of what the next day would bring. He would not lose, because if he lost, then the rest would soon fall, and they would lie limp on the floor like Agumon and the rest had before they had dissolved into the air, rending their hearts apart as they had done so. He would not lose, because he was responsible for all of them, and they looked to him for protection.

He had watched them over the past three years, counted down to the last day. Watched how Yamato had trailed off into listlessness and depression, how Koushirou became more isolated over time, how Sora had become more and more anxious, prioritizing their safety over the dire consequences of their actions. How Mimi tried her hardest just to make the next day perfect, how Jou had started look the other way and shut himself down, and how Takeru … gods, how Takeru became so warped and yet remain so pure-hearted. And always, _always_, he thought, "If only, that day, I had done something differently," because he was their leader, and even if he didn't know what, even now, he should have done something to change the circumstances they were in.

Instead, he had let the dominoes fall, and what was once a cruel game of survival became a cruel game of oppression he had let himself be drawn into. It had been so easy. It was something to fill the emptiness within him, something that not even his love for the others could fill.

Because he hadn't done something, _anything_, to prevent what was so obviously wrong, he had failed as a leader. And because he had failed as a leader, so the rest of them fell. That was all there was to it.

And so when he was flipped onto his back by a great dinosaur, of all things, and a great foot met his chest, all he could think of was that he'd deserved this.

A shocked gasp met his ears as his helmet fell from his face, and he turned to see a girl who looked vaguely familiar. A boy stood next to him, standing protectively before her, fists raised as he shouted towards his partner, a blue humanoid dragon who was bearing down hard on Yamato, but his eyes were looking straight at Taichi, and Taichi could only return the favor, a fierce, bloody, toothy grin ripped itself across his face.

A challenge.

He may be finished, but he was far from done, and until he drew his last breath, he thought as he blasted the giant dinosaur off of him, it was not over.


	8. Epilogue

This is my sad attempt at finalizing the plot behind this story. It also introduces a few problems of its own, a few of which I'll point out here, so the story itself is clearer.

I assume all of Digimon Adventure post-Devimon does not happen. Etemon's probably running around on the continent, but he never struck me as a particularly ambitious guy in the first place. Vamdemon ... I had to shove him into this epilogue. The Dark Masters? ...Don't exist. Simply could not find a way to fit them in. Creative license ftw.

Also, for any wondering, the original CCs are all at 02-age, at least physically. I'm still unsure whether to include the time-distortion between the Digital World and Real World, or not, simply because 1300+ years is a looong time to live.

As for why new children appeared when the old ones were still there? As I've understood, when crap happens in the Digital World, it grabs some kids to fix it, simply because they're far more effective than any Digimon would be (because of their additional powers due to emotions). No change here, except that "crap" happens to be... uhm...

Did I get the poor camp counselor's name right? Haven't checked...

Hope you enjoyed the ride! First completed fic evar, w00t!

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><p>When the Digivice had first appeared on her table, Hikari hadn't thought much of it. The summer had just begun, and her brother had just left for summer camp. She was sick, but Miko was keeping her company. Everything was perfect.<p>

Until that night her parents had received a frantic call from the camp counselor that their son was nowhere to be found, along with six other children.

Thinking back to it, she almost felt bad for the man, but if there was anyone to lay the blame on, it was him, and poor Fujioka was torn up so badly by guilt he had resigned the next day.

The authorities never found the missing children's bodies, and after a month, a conjoined funeral was held. Hikari mourned, and it was a full year before she was on her feet again, physically and metaphorically. She still couldn't look at a soccer ball without feeling a pang in her heart.

But then there came a Tailmon who wanted to kill her but couldn't, accompanied by a Wizarmon with a glowing pink crest who claimed that she was the child of Light and that her rightful place was in the Digital World.

She had refused at the time. Although she accepted the white cat's friendship and had singlehandedly fought back against the vampire demon lord who had bore down on her city, she couldn't bring herself to go to another world. As much as an adventure appealed to her, an always sickly child, the absence of her brother still weighed heavily, and she didn't want her parents to suffer the loss of a second child like that poor Ishida family.

Two years passed from the last day she had seen her brother, who had waved goodbye and promised her souvenirs before disappearing down the road, and it was on that day she received a transmission from the Digital World again.

Healing, and starting to come out of her shell again, Hikari could hardly refuse under the puppy eyes of the homesick Tailmon, and through the portal she went. Amazed, she had found herself in a magical fantasy land, where monsters of every imaginable possible shape existed and lived peacefully together without a sign of conflict. Tailmon had run off, ecstatic to meet Wizarmon again, who had sent the message in the first place.

Wizarmon was there on behest of one of the sages who watched over the Digital World, as Hikari understood it. The man's name was Gennai, and he looked like what Hikari thought her grandfather would look like in another ten years. He told of a small island over the sea, where the peaceful creatures were being massacred, and though many had escaped, the remaining few lived in oppression and fear for their everyday lives.

Hikari had never been one to stand down in the face of injustice, and so had eagerly pledged to help. In return, Gennai had given her three more of the Digivices, asking her to find their rightful owners. Their partners, their "Tailmon," in a sense, was waiting for them in this world, he had said. The bond she had shared with Tailmon was so wonderful, she couldn't imagine depriving anyone who could have potentially had the opportunity to experience such a feeling of fullness if she tried, and so she agreed full-heartedly to the task.

The first was a rambunctious boy named Daisuke, from her own class, even. He was … frankly, ridiculously easy to convince, seeing as he was hanging onto her every word. It was almost scary, to be honest, but she took what she could.

The second was Miyako, who hung out in the computer lab from time to time. Hikari had caught her just as she was planning on returning to bring Daisuke to the Digital World when one of the devices in her pocket began chirping like mad.

The third was a much harder find, and it was ultimately Miyako who had offered to take the last Digivice for a day, to widen its exposure. Iori was a tenant in the same apartment complex as Miyako, but he was a grade-schooler, and there was no way Hikari could have found him otherwise.

The rest had gone smoothly. Each of the three had met their partners, and they had even managed to find a Whamon who was willing to take them to the island. The Digimon residents welcomed the new children, heralding them as heroes. There were so many festivities that Hikari's eyes spun and V-mon, Daisuke's partner, got sick from eating too much.

It was supposed to be an easy, "go in, kick butt, go out" adventure, as Daisuke had so succinctly put it, but then things started going so wrong.

Their opponents weren't supposed to be human.

Their opponents weren't supposed to be the seven children missing from two years ago.

Their opponent wasn't supposed to be her brother. A brother who used to piggyback her to the hospital if she got a scrape on the knee; a brother who didn't even seem to recognize her anymore.

She didn't know how they were fighting without partners, but it was with a ferocity none of them had ever seen before, and when her br-, when the leader was finally down, something just _shoved_ Ankylomon off, and he was up again with blood dripping down his sides. Standing as tall as ever, as though there was not an injury on him.

What they were doing was simply beyond physics, beyond impossibilities. They fell, rose again, and fell again, only to rise yet again.

Gennai had said that children held exceptional powers in the Digital World. Because the place was partially based off emotions, of which children had an abundance of in the purest form, the world responded in kind, granting them power.

He just didn't say that it worked both ways, or that it could be so directly manipulated. She still didn't know how to feel about how he hadn't mentioned that their enemies were humans, children, just like them, but such thoughts were quickly sidelined as Aquilamon was almost shot out of the air by a girl standing far into the back, shooting fire from her fingertips as though they were arrows.

It was a frightening, cruel battle fought with such desperation that made Hikari's stomach turn.

But Digimon versus humans had never been an even match, and one of the blondes (the long-haired one) had finally called surrender, with a fierce gaze that said anything but, as he jealously guarded the leader's prone body, the sweaty, matted mass of brown hair nested in his lap.

She wanted to approach them, just to see if that warrior she'd seen, the one with the fierce, angry smile, was really her beloved brother, back from the dead, but any attempt she made to approach was blocked by the fiery-haired girl who refused to back down, even when she said that she was his sister.

"Siblings don't fight each other to the death," had been the other's firm reply.

So she had resorted to trying to sneak a glance in from afar, to little avail. Three others had come from the depths of the cold, haphazardly decorated castle, and they had settled themselves around the leader, her brother, as though shielding him from them. One, a blue-haired boy, tended to him with bandages while another, a brunette with long flowing hair, squeezed her brother's hand. She wished it was her there with him. The third, a lanky red-head, only knelt beside the blonde and whispered some things to which the latter only nodded morosely.

The sight was both touching and chilling, how they were so close to each other, how all six of them just seemed to form a natural circle around their leader, guarding him from harm even after the fight was over, as though they expected Hikari and the others to turn on them.

Her friends and their Digimon were off discussing what "to do with them" in hushed voices (a miracle, when it came to Daisuke and V-mon, but it seemed that even they could feel the tension in the atmosphere). Thus far, the consensus seemed to be to send them back to the Real World, where they would be dealt with and returned to their families. She wanted no part in the decision-making process. Not when it was hard not to see that the Digital World had not been as kind to them as it had to her and her friends. Not when she knew that even if they somehow fixed their situation, life for these seven would never be the same again.

Compassion was both her greatest trait and her greatest weakness.

A boy her age was cocking his head curiously, looking at them as though he had never seen another human in his life. She supposed it was true, in a way. If she remembered correctly, one of the children was only eight, and it had been a long time since they'd last seen any humans but each other, she guessed.

"What happened to you?" she asked, curiously and sadly. She should have thought better, because he had been the one who had rammed into XV-mon during the middle of an attack, recklessly running into the attack rather than dodging it, and it had worked.

At this, the boy's open expression closed, and all she saw was the hard warrior he had been only moments earlier.

"The monsters tried to kill us," he smiled. It was too toothy, like a shark. It was not unlike what had been on her brother's face before Ankylomon had been sent flying into a wall. "We fought back."


End file.
